They've come straight from Utopia / Headquarters in Berlin-Lichtenberg

Where did they all go this time?

To awaken with her, this dream / to begin days, days full and ripe

It all began on a Thursday evening in November 1989. From that night on, things would never again be the same.

Who taught child's heart cruelty? How were you lured to the poison dish?

Her voice still sounded friendly, but it had that slight quaver that signaled danger.

My bag in the back of the truck, the Antarctica bottles open, and we're off.

Well, I don't know, but somehow those East German men don't interest me.

I carried everything I had. It wasn't actually mine.

It's been almost three years since I ended up on that street in the Grenelle quarter.

He was doing nothing, not a damn thing, simply drifting, spending hours sitting in the Sparschwein with his first glass of Sternburg at his side [ . . . ]

Here come the animals, tame and wild: / Already it's problematic.

Perhaps I am one of the last who must live out to the end the destiny of the Jewish spirit in Europe.

An immigrant background has become a symptom of today's world, a world suffering from ADHD and a persistent pattern of hyperactivity, as well as from impulsiveness and anger.

Can it be that Maag could be in a position to manipulate clouds?

In April 1935, the Paris Central of the Communist Party found itself in an acutely embarrassing dilemma.

I didn't understand him, he didn't understand me.

And Mister Mozart didn't fasten his seatbelt either, the little monster tattled.

Her knees were trembling a bit, and she thought: That's the shock.

You're not going to cause me any trouble now, are you, the conductor said.

It took me some long months to realize that I was incarcerated.

“Sometimes I think I can reach the skies…and no sea would cover my bare knees!”

One. Two. And three. During the first three years of school, we are required to cross our arms if we wish to rest them on our desktops when we aren't writing.

The holiday isolated the four friends, who had been thrown together, more than any ordinary day.

It's more of a talent, one that you're born with, not something you can learn.

A man with a position like Harry's in my business is either loyal or dead.

Heaven rains down bread in little hard crumbs of dough, and whoever catches them may either become happy or choke on them.

Short said nothing, and no one found a word of comfort.

But what could he have done? my acquaintance asked.

My God, that's some stone. I've never held a diamond this big in my hands.

Of course it had to be salsa,which Broschkus detested. In a perfunctory way, he set his legs in motion, more the representation of a dance than the dance itself, he wanted to focus on the silvery toenails…

The old man tugged his vest down over his hips. The rattling downstairs continued, it was a disconcerting, urgent sound, and now it was compounded by knocking.

I and my trusty umbrella / he's always at hand

when there were no secret partswriting was devised on a woman’s bodyno part left undescribedmen and their dirty fingersmixed up one character with the otheruntil the letters couldn’t be readthey…

Jutta, please! Herr Rudolf raised his arms. Our apartment is at stake! Our whole way of life!

One day a group of tax agents announced that according to the new law, women would be required to pay tax on their legs if they had hair on them.

They seldom talked to one another, but on the second day, I saw a tiny smile in my direction from under her long lashes.

The dead were thought of as extremely touchy, envious, vengeful, quarrelsome, and cunning.

Will I see you tomorrow, he asks, and she asks him back, Do you want to? It's too cold to flirt, nor does he try. Yes, he says intently.

I-I don't understand barking, stuttered Prince Neumann. But I understand you! Why is that?

My passion increased, but my mind never stopped working.

Crossing the Serbian Republic’s BorderMost of the Republika Srpska border is made of garbage—it seems the whole town of Stolac brings its trash here. I meet three oncoming cars in fifty kilometers.…

Azeri! Prepare to die! he shouted, and fired into the sky.

Sherko Fatah writes of smugglers and minefields on the border with Turkey.

As long as he could feel her forehead in his hand, nothing bad could happen.

Cut off by the Wall, the line lost its raison d'être decades ago and is reverting to scrub and desert.

Our government was very generous with its citizens; it couldn't be compared to an imperialist regime.